Will You Still Love Me When I've Got Nothing But My Aching Soul?
by XxBuzzBuzz
Summary: "It's weird, the satisfaction that comes from protecting people you love." /JohnLock/
1. Chapter 1

John kept firmly in place, his eyes closely focused on the women who now had a gun pointed at no one other then Sherlock _freaking_ Holmes. Honestly, was there anyone he could just stop being such a prick to? Especially people whom had a gun in there hands. No, that would be too_ boring_ for Sherlock.

"Lauren…" Lestrade's voice echoed from the other side of the park, his own gun in hand. "Put the gun down…Let's talk about this." John immediately saw the hysteria only grow more aggressively in her features.

"Talk about what officer?" She scoffed. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

It was Sherlock's turn to scoff at such a remark.

"Well for starters you murdered someone, and if I do recall correctly-" Her fingers snaked over the trigger and slightly bent as Sherlock continued to talk.

"Sherlock." John snapped.

"I told you I didn't want to hear another word from you_ Mr. Watson_." Lauren spat through gritted teeth. "I just need all of you to shut up for a minute and_ listen_."

John pursed his lips together and shot Sherlock a '_keep your damn mouth shut for five minutes_' look.

"I didn't do it out of spite. I did it to protect myself! He was mad!" She smiled. "Crazy even. He wanted to kill me, so I had to beat him to that satisfaction. I had my kids to protect, they needed me."

"It's weird, the satisfaction that comes from protecting people you love."

"You mean Murder-" John didn't even have time to tell Sherlock to shut his mouth before the shot was fired. Another shot quickly following after it, creating the illusion of an echo.

It was like everything came to a sudden halt and began to slow down. Everything was just so jumbled and confusing. He was so worried and concerned about the seriousness of Sherlock's wound, but for some reason couldn't find it in him to meet Sherlock's gaze.

In fact, it seemed as though he couldn't see anyone in the park anymore. He could hear them, in all of there slow motion glory but-

Wait.

How did the sky exactly come into his main line of sight, and when did the grass become so close to his entire body. Then it hit him, and of course 'it' being referred to the pain that shot throughout him.

Oh.

Right.

He had been the one who was shot.

"John!" Lestrade's voice called out as another figure came into his sight of view. Sherlock looked down at him with complete fear riding in his eyes.

"John-" Sherlock's moth hung open, almost searching for something to say. Searching for the words that would take the situation and turn it around, so it was him on the ground rather then John.

The sound of Lestrade screaming on the phone for an ambulance was the only thing coming through clearly in John blurred mind. He tried to move his gaze down onto his own body, wanting to know exactly where he had been shot, only to fail. His head just felt way too heavy.

"Two." John gasped, noting how talking only increased the pain. Sherlock being the man he was needed no explanation to John's words and just shook his head.

"The second one was Lestrade shooting her." John looked up to meet Sherlock's eyes and tried his best to smile. The trickle of blood that fell from John's mouth though, was a sure sign Sherlock wasn't having the best view to look at. Though when it came to your friend being shot, there wasn't really anything pleasant about it. "Please…" A choke came from Sherlock's stern face. "Please god…Don't die."

"Oh…" John Coughed. "U-use your I-Imagination." This earned a slight chuckle from the detective.

"I don't have to…" Sherlock looked as though he was going to fall apart right then and there, and if John could take the bullet wound and make it go away…so help him he would. He wanted to stay awake, he needed to show Sherlock he was fine. Needed Sherlock to know this wasn't the end of him, but the blackness over powering his vision thought otherwise.

There was no point in lying anyway, not even to himself.

"Yes." A soft voice coughed from behind Sherlock. Her voice. "The satisfaction that comes with it." John watched as Sherlock stood back onto his feet, leaving his line of vision. "With murder."

He couldn't see anything but the dark sky that began to cloud above him. How odd would it be for him to die just as it rained. That was meant to be a sign of happiness though right?

"Sherlock, what are you-" Lestrade's voice bounced around in John's head as he fought the battle with his consciousness. "Sherlock! Give me back my-"

The girls laughter was slowly pushing its way through, making his own battle so much harder. He needed to concentrate.

_'Stay awake, Stay awake, Stay awake. The ambulance is on their way, you can do it-'_

The sound of a gun shot filled the air. Followed by Lestrade's hard to make out screams. Something about Sherlock and being out of your mind.

_ 'Of course Sherlock is out of his mind…'_

But wait, Something was most certainly missing.

Oh.

The laughing. She wasn't laughing anymore. She wasn't-

_ Oh._

John's eyes rolled around in a lazy haze as Sherlock came back into his view. He stared at the man that stood above him and shot a weak smile. When Sherlock's mouth twitched in a slight response, John decided to let go. It just hurt so much. So he had no other choice, he had to let the darkness win.

He was gone. 

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**I will continue this, it isn't a one shot. **

**Reviews are always loved and welcomed. **

**Plus they help with keeping up inspiration! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

John's whole body ached, and _god did it hurt. _Everything screamed at him in agony as if it were his last breaths. It felt as though that girl had managed to shoot him absolutely everywhere. All the way from his legs up to his head, it just hurt.

Wait.

Where exactly had she shot him again?

Making the terrible mistake of opening his eyes, another pain was brought to his attention as the light blinded his gaze. _God. _A whimper found it's way to his lips, and just like that the light was gone, Now replaced by a tall figure.

"Sher-" Oh how dry his throat was.

"Please do try not to talk Mr. Watson. You suffered a pretty bad wound to the chest." The unfamiliar voice continued on as his pulse was checked. "If it makes any difference though, now you have a new pretty little scar to match your old one."

John scoffed.

Oh, what he wouldn't do for a glass of water.

"Right, sorry. Well good news is your alive and awake."

John's vision began to slowly clear up. Well he was defiantly in a doctors office for sure, the machines that surrounded him were a defiant sign of that. Not to mention the IV that hovered over his patient wrist band. John gently gave himself leverage by placing his elbows against the bed, stealing a glance at his own body. He had been placed in the hospitals routine trousers, the shirt clearly left off for purpose. The only thing that even partly covered his chest was the white bandage that pressed against him tightly.

"You were out for quite some time."

"W-what?" John coughed, the words like razor blades against his throat.

"Now Mr. Watson, I did ask you not to talk at-"

"H-How long?" Maybe the doctor should be less worried about him talking, and more focused on the task of bring him a _bloody cup of water. _The doctor shot John a warning glare before answering.

"It's been almost a week. Truthfully didn't think you would even make it, even gave your friends quite a bit of a scare every time they came for an update." Friends? As in the plural sense? "We lost you quit a bit of times, but my team refused to let you go. Mycroft wanted to make sure you had the best around after all, so it's lucky-" The doctors sentence was cut off as a knock came to the door.

"Dr. Jensen, your needed in room 204."

"Right, be there in just a second." John watched as the doctor strode over carefully beside him, a smile stuck in place. "Well I will leave you to get some rest, but first I need to know if your comfortable with visitors. Without your consent we weren't really able to let anyone through. The only one named on your card was a Harry? She has yet to show though so-"

"Yes." John sighed. The doctor above him frowned in annoyance.

"So…just _nod _yes or no."

_ So what movement do I have to do to get a glass of water. _

* * *

Half of John wished he never gave the doctor permission for visitors. For the past four hours, he hadn't had one moment of peace. It was just guest after guest after _freaking _guest.

First was Ms. Hudson. From the moment she had walked through the door, the whole 'mother hen' routine didn't stop. Constantly she kept asking him what he needed, fluffing his pillows, and calling for the nurse any time he let an ache of pain slip.

Second was Lestrade. This visit wasn't _as bad_, but if he had the choice of skipping it would he? Yes. He always had something to complain about, and John got to hear all about it. From the stupidity of Sherlock's actions towards the situation with that girl, to the fact no one was allowed to visit John while he was out.

Third was Molly. Which, was just a tad bit awkward. She just sat in the corner of the room, occasionally shooting John a smile or an 'I'm sorry'. Thankfully that visit didn't last long. It wasn't that he didn't like Molly, it was just…

Fourth was of all people, Anderson and Donavan. That visit he couldn't even remember, simply because he removed himself from that situation altogether. It even surprised him that the robotic responses didn't set them off at first, but as they walked out Donavan cleared that up. 'Probably shock from being shot.' Well, let them believe what they will.

Lastly was Mycroft, which was short and sweet.

Well, if sweet is what you would call it.

_ "Do try not to get shot again dear Watson. This was much more of a hassle then it should have been." _

That man and his outstanding ability to be so _soothing _sometimes. It should almost be a crime.

As Mycroft walked out of the room, John sighed in relief. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing them, no that was more then great. It was the constant talking everyone did that he could have done without. He was just so tired and worn out from it all. The massive hole in his chest that is. What he wouldn't do for a moment's peace.

_ click. _

John rolled his eyes in defeat as the door clicked behind yet another guest.

"John."

"Sherlock." Sherlock smiled in response, and John returned one back.

"Do try to heal quickly. The apartment is far too boring. Plus the blog hasn't been updated in quite sometime, wouldn't want people loosing interest in me now would we?" John chuckled and shook his head.

"No, no we wouldn't want that." A pause. "Did you…did you uh-"

"Shoot her? Yes."

"Right." Another pause.

"She's still alive. I didn't kill her John. We still needed answers from her after all." Sherlock stepped closer to the bed, taking a seat into the chair placed next to it.

"Of course. So did you get your answers?" This caused Sherlock's eyes to light up like Christmas.

"Oh, yes! Apparently her husband was beating on her and the children. So she decided to kill him to put a stop to it. Stupid really. She could have just simply left with her children. Sometimes I don't understand people-"

"It's because you don't pay attention to the emotional aspect of it Sherlock." John raised himself to be at a sitting stance. A sharp pain traveled its way from his chest to his head, causing him to loose balance in the process. It was Sherlock's hand that sprung out to help him further. John smiled. "Thanks."

"Emotional aspect John, don't get distracted. Continue."

_ Of course. _

"Right. Well, she felt like she needed the closure. If she were to just up and leave with her Children, then she would know he was still out there. Her mind would never be at ease. Of course there are different ways to approach this. Like, reporting it to the police and getting him arrested, but again…she was a crazy bitch." Sherlock's lips pursed together as he stared at John.

"Interesting." John leaned his head against the bed's frame and closed his eyes, relaxed. So far, this was the only visit to not be so pain enduring. "She said something similar to me."

"Yeah?" John hummed tiredly.

"Yes, about you." This caused John's eyes to shoot open and stare at him.

"What?"

"Well of course when Lestrade was questioning her, and brought to her attention her kids would be taken away she got upset. Starting screaming and telling us we had done the wrong thing. Telling us…well me mostly, that she hoped you'd die. Ranting on how she needed that satisfaction, which of course makes no sense. You have no resemblance to her husband, nor did you do anything wrong to her or the kids-"

"Sherlock, don't worry about it. She's just crazy." Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he watched John.

"What did she mean?"

"What? Sherlock I don't-"

"What did she mean John. I know you know, don't play dumb with me." John scoffed.

"Sherlock, it's really not that interesting. Just a stupid example of a humans fragile emotional state and-"

"John." John finally locked his gaze with Sherlock's and felt like he couldn't breathe. There was no way he could tell him, not now at least. Hell, what if he read it wrong? Then he would look like a complete idiot.

"She did it to make sure it was real. To make sure she really shot her Husband. Kind of like when you take a double take. You do it again to make sure that it really was what it seemed."

Sherlock paused and just studied him. John could feel those dark green orbs burning into his own flesh and skin.

"Your right, that was a waste of my time." Sherlock flung from the chair and headed for the door in one swift motion, not even giving so much as another glance towards John. "Do rest up, I'll be back tomorrow to discuss a new case. In the mean time, heal faster."

_ Yes, because on can do that on command. _

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving John yet again, by himself.

* * *

John started at the ceiling above him as he drifted off to sleep, silently hoping he would take ages to heal. The faster he healed, the faster he would have to go home and be confronted by Sherlock. It was only a matter of time. John wasn't stupid after all, he knew Sherlock knows he lied about her meaning. Yet, he couldn't be sure what he thought was the truth…was actually that. The truth.

How exactly would he say it anyway? How are you ever prepared to explain something like that? Especially when there is a very high chance you are wrong.

_ She wanted to kill me to get back at you. You got her caught Sherlock, you got her children taken away from her. The one things she loved most in the world, so in return she had to do the same to you. She had to take the one thing you loved most in the world. When she had that gun aimed at you, I thought she was going to shoot you. I thought she was going to end your life and take away the one thing you treasured more then anything. Your work…your life. So trust me when I say, I was more surprised then anyone when that bullet went through my chest. When she choose me to hurt you. _

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**Well I really hope you guys like it!**

**I don't think I have ever written a chapter this long :,D**

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**xx**

**Thanks for all the reivews on the previous chapter too (:  
**

**Got me really excited to write this one! **


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